Emotionless Lighters
by nine miles to go
Summary: Seven year old Chris was stolen from his cradle as a baby, forced to obey orders from elders and suffer strict punishment, never allowed to have an opinion or feel. When he falls down to earth, what will he uncover? What dangers will he face?
1. Crumble of the Embassy

Emotionless Lighters

Chapter One: Crumble of the Embassy

* * *

Chris

I'm not allowed to speak unless directly commanded to do so. I'm not allowed to feel. Crying, anger, fear—it is forbidden. The ground rules have been set up like this Up Here ever since I can remember. In fact…I can't remember anything else. It almost makes me sad, but then I have to remember not to feel again. The consequences are too dire to waste petty time thinking of such things, anyways.

Every day is the same. We wake up early, train, eat very little, train more and go back to sleep. We are not permitted to speak with one another or our Elders. Listen and learn—or suffer. There isn't much of a choice.

One time a boy rebelled. He looked a little older than me. I couldn't be too sure, since I'd never seen myself in a mirror before, but I'm pretty sure he had the same hair as I did. He said that he was sick and tired of taking orders, of living this life, of being deprived of the pleasures of Earth.

We never saw him after that.

And later that day, when I hesitantly asked an elder what Earth was, I was whipped. Perhaps Earth is a deadly place. Maybe Earth is what we're training for. These spells, potions, defense mechanisms…maybe we're fighting against this world below us that I hear the other children mumble about in their sleep.

There are only two things I know for sure about myself: My name is Chris and I know nothing. Not very comforting, but true. I guess I was on Earth once myself—we all were. But I can never remember anything. Once I saw a face in a dream and cried out—I was smacked for that one—but after the punishment, the face wouldn't pop into my head again. I wondered if they did that on purpose. I wonder if the face was my imagination or a possible link to my past.

It doesn't matter anyways. If I had a past with anything or anyone, I'd be long forgotten by now. I'd have to be at least eight years old.

* * *

The bell rang at precisely five in the morning, as it does every day. My eyes adjust to the bright light in the room and I immediately jump out of my bed. We're punished if we aren't quick enough in making the covers and dressing into our plain white robes. The last one up it always smacked with the morning Elder's cane.

It was a little boy today. I would pity him, but I'm not allowed to. Tears well up in his eyes and I silently hope that they don't notice, for he'd be punished even more than the previous time. Fortunately he bites them back and replaces his expression with the void, lifeless one we are all forced to wear.

It's like a mask, only worse. I pinch myself, remembering that I'm not allowed to feel this way. The Elders do what's best for us—that's what they always say. It's the rule to always trust in the elders.

When I was smaller, they told me that our training was to save witches. I don't know what a witch is, but if they're stupid antics that need saving trapped us Up Here, I'm not very happy with them.

"Children, to your first class," the morning Elder barks. "Now," he emphasizes harshly.

I step in front of the little boy that was smacked so they don't see him flinch at the volume of the Elder's voice. His eyes flash at me gratefully before stepping into line and following me down the hall to the dark room where we study potions.

A bell sounds shortly after our silent studies and we parade into Spells. Our heads are engrossed in our books—we have no other option, obviously. If we so much as glance up at the wall, we're smacked. I've known this for a while, so there was no excuse for my stupidity when I jerked my head up after hearing a sharp crack.

The cane collides with my head before I even realize my mistake. I return to my studies, attempting to ignore the sharp, throbbing pain in my skull. I'm used to it, thankfully. We're lucky not to be hit more than three times a day.

But that isn't the end of the peculiarities. Another crack sounds through the room, and this time more children avert their attention towards the walls. Smack, smack, smack—all three are hit. Didn't they know any better after seeing what the elder did to me?

It doesn't stop there, either. Suddenly the room is shaking. My fists squeeze the book, but I am not afraid. The ceiling begins to cave in on us, but I do not run. I do not even utter a single cry when the plaster hits my head. It is not allowed.

Nothing is allowed.

But what is happening? The cries of the other children begin erupting, and I pity them as they start to run. The elders will punish them all for their fear.

What I don't realize until the building crumbles is that in the end, they were the lucky ones. I was chosen. The entire ceiling fell—and I was the only one left in the room to hit. Maybe I was hoping it would kill me. But I wasn't that fortunate. Instead, my brain seems to scatter…I'm falling….and then, nothing.

* * *

Piper

There's a terrible storm brewing outside, rattling the windows and shaking the house. A part of me almost wishes it were demonic so we could stop it, but no such luck. It's an every day, ordinary storm, and I'm sitting alone in the foyer on an ordinary night.

Leo's somewhere in Elder-world. I can't even remember the last time I saw him, come to think of it. He took off when our younger son was kidnapped by demons. We didn't even get to name him. But to me, he was always Chris.

My eyes cloud over, thinking of that day. How overjoyed we were. Would things be any different if the baby were still here? I wonder. Leo had acted so strangely. Not betrayed, not anguished…almost…I can't place my finger on it. Nervous? Like it was his fault our baby was missing.

But of course it wasn't. It was all of our faults for leaving him alone.

Life's okay, though. I've got Wyatt, my first son, and Phoebe and Paige. Phoebe's actually had a boyfriend for more than a year now (a record, I think) and Paige is a teacher for Magic School. Wyatt's…well, going through I phase, I think. But he's ten years old, so I'm sure it's to be expected.

I don't know why, but I feel nervous about this storm. I'm waiting for something to happen—anything. Somehow I just can't bring myself to believe that the storm is nothing and completely natural.

My eyes dart to the window and I do a double take at what I see. Was that a dead bird, falling from the sky just now? No way—it was much too large to be a bird.

"What in the hell…?" I mutter, getting off the couch and leaning into the windowsill.

It's a boy, laying still on the side of the road in white robes stained red with blood. I gasp as he slowly lifts himself up, not even stopping to flinch. The pain doesn't seem to affect him at all. Was he a demon?

A clap of thunder erupted, but he remains where he is. Doesn't even twitch a muscle. He looks down at his wounds before staring straight ahead and beginning to move down the street.

"Hey, you!" I call, opening the window.

He doesn't look back. Is he deaf?

"Over there—kid in the robes! Hey! Stop!"

It looks as if he's forced to obey as he comes to an uneasy halt in his tracks right in the middle of the street.

"What are you doing out there? There are cars—it's freezing out, and you're wearing—hey! Are you even listening?"

He doesn't even look at me. He's still staring straight ahead. The expression on his face is almost frightening, it's so eerie. I remember how abruptly he stopped after my command.

"Look at me," I say loudly.

He slowly turns and moves his head up towards mine, but his eyes, dull and gray from this point of view, never meet mine. Instead, they stare behind or below me…maybe even right _through_ me.

"Come here."

His feet carry him over to me and he stops at the front walk, the rain beating down on his head. A flash of lightning pierced the sky, illuminating his face. He couldn't be more than seven; he was fragile and small for his age with a mop of wet brown hair sticking to his head. He almost looked familiar, but I couldn't tell. He looked too hypnotized by some strange, compelling force for there to be a real connection.

"Where's your mommy?" I say to him gently.

He stares into space, as if pondering the question.

"Answer me."

"I do not know what to answer," he admits, his voice plain and even in a monotone.

"Are you all right? You're bleeding everywhere, you poor thing. Here…come inside…"

"No!" he gasps. His hand flies over his mouth and his eyes flash green with a sudden fear—but it's gone. The lifeless face returns.

"You're coming in with me," I assert, grabbing his arm. He tenses. "I won't hurt you," I assure him with a little laugh.

He doesn't smile back. Did he really think I was going to hurt him? Pulling him inside, thoughts nagged at my brain. How could a boy fall from the sky like that, bleed from numerous wounds, get caught all alone in the rain and pretend like nothing happened. The mystery intensified.

"Leo!" I call. Oh my god—did I just call for Leo? It seemed so natural to do so, like it was back in the old days all those years ago. Watching the child standing in the doorway, I decided I'd better not take my chances by hesitating. "Leo? Leo!"

Slightly confused, Leo orbs down to the dark kitchen. I flick on a light, indicating the small boy. He gasps, rushing to heal the boy.

"The lighters' embassy fell," he gasps, observing the boy's robes. "You…you're from the training camp. You're a lighter," he says in wonderment. His face shines in a deep respect I've never seen before, just over a little boy.

"Care to explain?" I ask him sharply, reminding him that his ex-wife that he hasn't seen in a year is also in the room.

"Um, Piper, I really have to…"

"Go?" I snap. "Go ahead, then."

"This is a really delicate situation," he pleads. "Look, Piper, he and the other lighters… they're in great danger. I don't know what's happening, but if we don't sort this out soon, then the entire world could be at stake." He orbs out.

The boy stares at the spot he orbed from.

"That's orbing," I explained to him gently. "Whitelighters orb to their charges, witches. We're magic—witches. Do you already know all this?"

The gray in his eyes only stare through me once more. I sigh, rephrasing the thought. "Tell me what you do know."

"My name is Chris. I am seven years of age and in training to protect witches," he responds, obeying my command to speak.

I frown. "Protect witches? Protect us from what?"

* * *

Leo 

"The embassy has fallen," I cry to my fellow elders in council. They glance from their meditation stances in shock. "The embassy for the lighters has fallen!"

"What?" demands Ariel, an elder to my left. "The embassy is protected. It can't fall—you're speaking nonsense."

Rage bubbles through me. "I got a call from Piper, my charge," I attempt to explain. "A boy in the robes of the lighters' was there, bleeding heavily. He has been healed, but he won't last long on earth. The evil will kill him." I pause. "There could be others that fell. We have to check the embassy—the lives of the elders and the lighters depend on it!"

Ariel is consumed by orbs, obviously to visit the embassy. She is followed by myself and three other elders.

The destruction is overwhelming. I bite back a cry—the elders there are struggling out of the rubble. I know for a fact that there are fifteen children among the lighters, and yet there are only ten standing in a row, battered and bleeding. They do not cry or make a sound, simply watch the decay.

Tears are welling up in the eyes of a lighter no more than four. A freed elder immediately whips him; I cringe at the injustice.

"What happened here?" I finally strike up the nerve to ask. Two lighters join the line-up after escaping as well. Twelve out of thirteen, I note to myself.

"We were under siege," an elder cries. "The walls and the sky toppled upon us. The lighters—there are—" He counted. "Three missing," he says. "They will be punished," he adds icily.

Another joins them, limping. She's hit as well for the display of weakness. What will happen to the boy below, fallen on earth?

"Keep him," says a voice.

I turn to face Ariel, confusion evident on my face. The other elders are distracted with their interrogations as we converse.

"I've been on this council longer than any of them. I'm telling you to keep the boy that fell," she informs me. "I have seen him. His name is Chris, and he is the most powerful among the lighters. He is serving a purpose on earth, but the elders don't know it."

"He'll die in an instant down there," I cry. "If he's the most powerful force here, than he's the most powerful force of good on earth—he'll be killed. He's too little." I search her face for support, but find none.

"You're journey has only just begun, Leo Wyatt," she says gently. "Go to earth and don't come back. Protect the child."

"You mean…abandon my duties?"

"Yes. That's exactly what I intend for you to do." Concern spreads on her face, watching the lighters. "I never believed this was right, stealing children from their homes and bringing them to such a miserable society. Try to convert the boy. He only takes orders; otherwise he won't speak." She sighs. "This training is never as effective as love."

"Should I leave?"

"Yes—now. Quickly, before the others see."

* * *

TBC...


	2. Confusing Words

Emotionless Lighters

Chapter Two: Confusing Words

* * *

Piper

"Answer my questions," I finally think to demand. Maybe then he'll stop being so silent. "Where did you come from?"

"I do not know."

I sigh. "Okay, where do you live?"

"I have no idea."

I search his face for a hint of falsehood, but find none. They're blank, gray, and void of all expression. His tone of voice ceases to change. What kind of a child is this, anyway? Leo had called him a "lighter."

"What's a lighter?" I ask.

"I do not know. Why do you not ask that man?"

"Because I can't," I snap. I soften my tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you—it's not your fault." But there really isn't a need for apology; he's unfazed and staring past me again. "That was a pretty rough fall. How do you feel? Answer truthfully."

"Trapped," he says. A gasp escapes him and his eyes flicker green with fault, but soon enough they're back to the emotionless mask.

A smile escapes me. At least he's semi-aware of everything.

"Are you tired?"

"I am not allowed to be. I must return—the elders will be waiting."

I put my hands on my hips and lowered myself to his level, eyes narrowing. "Elders? You live with Elders?"

"Yes."

"What do you do with the elders?" I continue.

"Train. Please, I fear I am not permitted to answer questions to a stranger—"

"We're not strangers," I correct him. Whoa, where'd that come from? Of course we're strangers—he just fell from the sky in the front of my street. "Well, not entirely. Look, I have a little boy your age, but he's spending the night with his aunt up at his…school." I decide to keep it simple. "You can sleep in his bedroom tonight and we'll get this all straightened out in the morning, alright?"

"Thank you for the offer, but I am afraid I am not permitted to accept. I must return before my absence is taken into account."

I sigh, sitting back onto one of the tall stools by our counter that we used for those back-breaking complicated potions to sit by the stove in. "Well, your absence will just have to be taken into account, then," I inform him in a cheery voice. "I'm sure everything will be fine. Leo's getting it all straightened out. Now, please, just…"

Leo orbs in, taking me by surprise. "Sorry," he mumbles.

"So?" I pry expectantly, not bothering to erase the hostility in my voice. "What did the elders say?"

Leo's glance fleets over to the boy uncertainly. "We're…supposed to take care of him," he says uneasily. "I've been sent down to earth to protect him here. He's ours for now, I guess." He gives the boy a smile. "You don't mind, do you?"

"I am not allowed to mind," he responds mechanically, "only allowed to follow orders."

Leo looks at me skeptically, as if to say, "Does he always do that?"

"I tried, buster, I really did. Good luck," I say to Leo, starting to exit.

"Wait," Leo pleads. "I've got an idea." He ushers me into another room. "Look, Piper, I know you're mad at me, but this is a full-scale emergency. There's not much I can tell you—"

I scoff. "Elder business, hm? Too important for lowly witches like us?"

"No—not at all, Piper. It's just that I don't know much myself. I know that these children are originally of Earth—"

"Doesn't take a genius to figure that out," I cut in sarcastically.

He ignores me patiently. "—and that they were stolen either as babies are generally at a young age. They're pretty much enslaved up there, Piper." His face is grave with remorse. "It was terrible. I saw it—one false move and they're whipped brutally. For simple things like coughing or speaking out of turn. They can only take orders, according to Ariel—"

I cock an eyebrow. "Ariel?"

"Another elder," he explains. "So basically, he won't—_can't_—do anything on his own free will. None of them can. It's truly sick, what they're doing."

"But…" My eyes flicker over to the door where the boy waits. "Why are they doing this? They didn't do anything wrong." Anger flares through me. This is so typical of the elders, torturing small children for no reason.

"They're among the purest souls of the world. The elders have seen a prophecy of a terrible force bringing the realm of magic into the darkness, and the lighters—that's what the kids Up There are called—are being trained to protect witches and put an end to it when it begins. They're smarter, faster, and more powerful than we can imagine." He pauses. "And yet they're not allowed to defend themselves."

There's a significant moment of silence between us, thinking of the woes of those kids. "There's gotta be something we can do," I finally manage to whisper, shuddering at the thought of Wyatt, my own child, being forced to live in such a way.

"There is. That's why I'm allowed to be down here. Ariel, an elder with hundreds of years more experience than myself, is defying the rest of them. She told me to come down here, protect the boy and try to…well, make him normal. Instead of taking orders and expecting punishments."

I stifle a laugh. "That's going to take some work."

He fidgets uneasily, pacing around one of the couches. "What have you found out about him?"

"Um…well, he told me his name, but that slipped my mind. Hm. He's seven years old, I remember that—and he doesn't know what a lighter is. All he knows is that he has to protect witches."

* * *

Chris

I'm silently cursing myself for my slip-up. Sometimes I wish desperately that I wasn't forced to take orders, but such thoughts would result in great punishment if ever revealed. But there had to be some truth to it, no matter how hard I wish it'll go away. I do feel trapped. I have to tell the truth—she made me do it.

I'm not sure what to think of these people, this place on earth. But it doesn't matter, since I'm not allowed to have any opinion about them. That's forbidden, having opinions. If I did have an opinion, though, I guess they'd be okay.

But a little stupid. Can't they realize that every word they utter is comprehensible from this room? I can hear everything they're saying. Our senses were trained to pick up even the slightest disturbance, so there's really no way to tune them out.

As always, even though I am well aware of their words and almost startled by them, I compress the information in my brain and store it. That's my only option. You know the drill by now—if I linger on this, I'll be punished. No emotions. Ever.

The words "lighter" and "taking orders" and "powerful" jumble around in my head. I close my eyes, concentrating on shoving it into my head and ignoring it. They continue talking about how the Elders are cruel to us and how our lives are unfair. How dare they flaunt their opinions like that? The Elders were merely trying to protect the witches. If we were incompetent, it was our own fault and we deserved to be punished.

Wait. That's still an opinion, whether or not it's what I really think. Ugh! It's a good thing Elders can't read minds.

Finally the door slid back open. I open my eyes quickly. They'd been saying more, but I missed it in my effort to store the previous conversation. I survey their apprehensive looks. What exactly are they planning to do now?

The woman clears her throat nervously. "Okay," she begins, pausing as if trying to think of what to say. "This is the last time I'll do this, okay? Then no more questions for tonight. Alright?"

I stare at her, trying to keep my expression as nonchalant as possible.

She gives the man an "I-told-you-so" kind of look. I glance up. When will the elders realize I'm missing? What will my punishment be? Have any of the others fallen as well? Immediately I squash these terrible thoughts. I can't ask questions or be curious, only allowed to learn what the Elders let us learn.

"Now tell me the truth. Tell him what you told me before."

"What piece of information do you wish for me to say aloud?" I ask, hiding my sudden suspicion.

"How do you feel?"

I am perpetually silent for as long as I can be, resisting the sudden pull to respond. I can't slip-up again. They'll hurt me, just like they would if any of the others did such a terrible deed. Can't they just leave me alone?

"Answer," she demands.

A command. "Trapped." My eyes grow wide for a moment and I clap a hand over my mouth. Surely I'm done for. When the Elders find out, I'll be in so much trouble. These people just don't understand the consequences.

"Why are you afraid?" the woman asks, leaning in towards me at my sudden sign of weakness. I realize how cowardly I must look and immediately retract the shock at my statements, returning to the mask we all wear.

"I fear nothing," I say firmly. "I cannot fear. It is not permitted." She seems to have forgotten her promise to limit herself to one inquiry tonight, but it doesn't matter. If she persists, I must obey.

She groans. "See? That's practically his motto! The kid's been brainwashed! He's not allowed to do anything." She throws her hands up in the air, inviting him to take a try. "I can't think of anything else to try."

"The spell," the man finally says, as if giving in to something.

Spell? Oh no. They're casting a spell on me now? I've learned everything there is to learn about spells and then some, and with all the information I've acquired, I know that it's not desirable to have a spell cast upon you. My mind is reeling with suspicions and questions I'll never be allowed to ask, but I bite my tongue, pinching myself to suppress them.

I'm so busy thinking that I don't even hear her uttering the spell until my eyes are forced close and I fall back…into darkness.

* * *

Leo

I caught the boy before he hit the ground, lifting him up. "Thanks," I say to Piper.

"Just a sleeping spell," she says with a shrug.

I look at the boy and realize that, asleep, he's an entirely different person. He looks so innocent and fragile, face pale and framed by light brown hair. He almost resembles something I knew…but I can't put a finger on it. He's surprisingly light and small for his age.

"Where's Wyatt?" I ask before thinking.

Her face hardens. "At Magic School with Paige. He's spending the night," she says coldly. "But you'd know that if you ever bothered to come down here once in a while."

Her words sting but she doesn't know the truth—she doesn't know that I spend plenty of time with Wyatt in the nighttime, taking him Up There and training with him. She has no idea. I swore Wyatt to secrecy years ago.

"You can put the boy up in his bed. He won't be back till tomorrow afternoon." She stares at him, too, making the same realization. "He's so little. It's hard to imagine…"

I nod my agreement. "But we can put an end to what the elders are doing."

Her eyes lock with mine. "Exactly." Then she turns away sharply, heading up to her room and closing the door behind her. I guess that's her way of saying that the couch is free and I'm welcome to use that. I sigh, orbing into Wyatt's bedroom and carefully laying the boy down.

He frowns in his sleep and my heart goes out to him. What's he really thinking about when he's allowed to? We may never know.

* * *

Thanks for all the great reviews, guys! I feel so loved. Lol. Hope you liked the update! Thanks again for the feedback!


	3. Demons in all Forms

Emotionless Lighters

Chapter Three: Demons in all Forms

* * *

Piper

I woke up around nine in the morning, groggily thinking back on the events of last night. Was I dreaming? It was all so odd. But then I see the pad of paper and pen and decide that it couldn't be a dream, since the spells are still there. Before going to sleep last night, I decided to tinker around a bit with some spells that may allow the kid to speak his mind. It's terrible, watching him try to stop himself from speaking all the time.

And it's creepy to have Leo around, too, I think to myself, dressing into jeans and a t-shirt. It's been so many years, and now he's here with this poor child neither of us even know. This was not exactly a situation that either of us could've predicted.

I grab my spells, walking over to Wyatt's bedroom and opening the door to peek in. He's still in there, conked out from that spell. What was his name again?

Chris. His name was Chris.

Images of my own tiny baby come flooding back, to my displeasure. It was the loss of that baby that tore us all apart. But I couldn't put this kid in his place and try to make it okay. It was a coincidence that his name was Chris; besides, our baby wasn't even named when the demons kidnapped him. Our baby had been dead for seven years.

He looks so innocent when he's sleeping, so unaware. The poor kid was stuck in the middle of the world's problems. What unnerved me the most about his kidnapping and the kidnappings of the other children was the element of the prophecy. The prediction that a great evil would turn magic to the darkness. Was such a thing really going to happen? We'd always been able to stop any demon that tried to tear apart our family. Why would some new dark force be any different?

It's hard to believe that this kid is as powerful as Leo says he is, since he's so little and everything. Who were his original parents? Do they lay awake at night, wondering where he is? How old was he when he was kidnapped? A tiny baby, or a toddler, old enough to have some memory of the life he left behind?

After a moment of staring at him, I shake off all these unanswerable questions and head down the stairs to make some pancakes. Then we can use the reversal spell to wake him up.

On the way down I see Leo, sitting on the couch wide-awake. "What are you still doing here?" I sneer.

"Ariel told me to stay down here," he says, surprised at my cold nature. I don't care. Let him suffer. He sure doesn't think very highly of us after abandoning us for all these years.

"In our house?"

"Is that a problem?"

Our gazes meet one another's for a solid ten seconds before I finally divert my eyes upward. "I'm making pancakes. I'll put the reversal spell on him in a little while."

"Where's Phoebe?" he asks.

"She has a boyfriend named David and lives in San Francisco."

He frowns. "What happened to Les?"

"They broke up two years ago," I snap. "You really ought to check in on things once in a while, you know? I mean, do you even realize you have a five-year-old niece? Her name's Mel, she's Les' and Phoebe's daughter."

"I knew that," he protests. "I'm not as ignorant as you might think."

"Ha!" I turn my back on him and walk into the kitchen.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demands.

I don't answer, only start busying myself with pancake batter.

* * *

Leo

I really wish she'd stop snapping at me and acting so cold. I didn't do anything wrong—I had duties to fulfill. And it's not my fault Wyatt forgot to tell me Les and Phoebe broke up. What can she expect, that I pry into their lives all the time? She herself insisted I stay a whitelighter when we married. Doesn't she realize that I had no choice but to leave them?

Besides, it's not appropriate at a time like this. We have a great responsibility with a lighter in the house. We have to constantly be on alert. What can I do to make her realize the importance of this task? That boy up in Wyatt's bedroom could be the very key to the survival of the entire world. The key to her very own survival! She has to realize that his power alone is greater than the entire Power of Three.

"You know," she says while flipping pancakes, "it strikes me as a bit odd."

"What does?" I ask, surprised that she's actually saying something non-offensive for once.

"Not that I'm complaining," she says quickly, "but why wasn't Wyatt taken Up There? I mean, think about it. He's the wielder of Excalibur. You'd think that the elders would…" She shrugs it off. "I don't know what I'm thinking. I should be grateful that he's still here instead of Up There with the elders."

"Yeah, but you do have a point," I say thoughtfully. "The oldest lighter is probably about fourteen. After that age, if they're considered worthy, they'll advance to further training."

"What if they're not?" she asks quietly.

I swallow. "I'm not sure. I've never been a part of this before. I do know that if they question the Elders in any way, though, they can be…well, one of the Elders tried to explain to me that if the kids are the least bit rebellious, there's a chance that their great forces may be used for evil. They don't take that chance. They…"

"They what?"

"They've killed, Piper. I really do think that the Elders have killed one of the older lighters."

Her spatula drops to the floor. "We can't allow Chris to go back Up There!" she cries.

"You've _named_ him?" I ask, shocked. "Piper—you can't—"

"Calm down, that's his real name. He told me so himself. Last night. I remember now." She picks up the spatula, glancing uneasily at me. "It's just a coincidence that he…you know. Has the same name."

I nod, still a little shocked. "Well, that's odd," I say lightly, trying to hide my surprise.

"Hm."

We sit in silence. We never have really talked about the boy we lost up until now.

"It wasn't easy, you know," she says quietly. I look over at her and see that she's staring down at the griddle, unable to face me. I'm lost for words. I know what she's saying. "You left us. First the baby was stolen, and then you left me to take care of Wyatt and mourn my second born. Where were you, Leo? Where were you when we needed you most?" There are tears in her eyes when she finally faces me.

Then we hear the crash from upstairs.

"The lighter!" I cry.

Piper's quick on her toes, muttering the reversal spell for the sleep he's in before I start orbing into the room. There's a demon carrying the boy's limp form, but then his eyes open in a flash. The reversal spell plays out and he's wide awake in an instant, not even feeling the usual grogginess left after a sleep spell.

I merely watch in amazement as he elbows out of the demon's grasp in one swift movement, whipping around and kicking him off his feet in the process. It's like when some innocent little kitty suddenly morphs into a dangerous tiger, the way he fights, though his face is still as empty and void as before. There is no fear, no surprise, no anger. He almost looks as if he were expecting it all along.

In less than a second, the demon's on his knees, clutching his side in pain and bleeding from the boy's blows. I'm surprised that he didn't even use any magic for the vanquish as the demon bursts into angry flames. Chris steps back, suddenly surprised at his own ability to do such a thing, then stares at the ashes.

Piper comes rushing in just as the scene ends.

"What happened?" she pants.

"He—wow," I marvel. "He just vanquished a demon without magic in like, less than two seconds flat."

"Are you kidding?" Her eyes grow wide, staring at the pile of ashes. "Well, then…who wants breakfast?" She laughs nervously.

Chris doesn't say anything, as usual.

* * *

Chris

My head is pounding and ears ringing. Could that really be one of the demons that the Elders were training us to defeat? It seemed so simple to stop. My eyes linger on the pile of ashes for a moment, a bit surprised that they'd made such a big deal over something I'd vanquished so quickly.

But why was it trying to take me, and where would it take me to? I couldn't be worth stealing. The Elders made it very clear with their punishments that we were not thought highly of.

"I made pancakes," the woman coaxes.

I vaguely wonder through the haze of demon-vanquishing what in the world a pancake is. Assumedly something to eat. I could not accept food or anything from these people; falling asleep here in the first place was a terrible mistake. How long had I been out? With every hour that went by, I knew my punishment would be more severe.

I stare up at her. "What was that thing?" I ask.

"A demon," she explains, staring up at the man. "Doesn't he know about them?"

"Of course. I'm just not sure he's actually come face to face with one before." His concerned glance follows mine. "Are you alright? That must have been…unpleasant."

I nod, not allowing myself to feel the fear that had radiated through me during the short battle. It was as close as I have ever come to showing emotion, and I knew that I would be severely punished if ever discovered for this crime of being afraid.

"Come downstairs with us," the woman says. "We'll get a few things straightened out, okay?"

I follow her down to the foyer from the night before and into a kitchen that smelled of something I'd never experienced before. It was an odd feeling; I'd never felt that food was appetizing before, but merely a necessity. We were served bread and water and not much else Up There. But I couldn't be comparing the foods, I remind myself, because that was punishable.

Everything was. I decide guiltily that for the time being, it doesn't matter. The elders can't read my mind. For now I'll merely enjoy the freedom of thinking my own thoughts and keeping them tucked away inside my mind.

That is, until the elders find me. Then I'll be the same as I always am. Void of any thought, without a reason or purpose to go on. What is our purpose? I begin to wonder with this new little treasure of thought I have allowed myself. When we're older, where will we go on to? What will become of us?

I remember the boy that spoke out around a year ago, and how we never saw him again. What became of him? I highly doubt that he was released. That was much too painless for the elders' liking. No, he was probably punished beyond any of our previous punishments. Either that, or he was…

The woman puts a plate of the pancakes in front of me with a fork and knife. They're round shaped and there's some kind of brownish liquid all around them. I keep my face expressionless as always, of course, but am suddenly curious as to the nature of this substance.

"Go ahead and eat," she tells me.

I stare down at the pancakes.

"What?" she asks, laughing. "You're acting like you've never seen a pancake before. Am I really that bad at cooking?" She frowns over at the man. "Haven't they ever had pancakes at the lighters' embassy?"

He shakes his head. "They aren't fed much, from what I hear," he admits.

I begin to wonder how much the people on earth eat if they consider what we eat very little.

"Well, they're very good. You can try some if you want…" Her voice trails off. "That's it. I just can't bear this anymore. It's not fair." She picks up a little pad.

"Let the emotions be unmasked

And allow thoughts to be free;

All contained by awful traps

Can finally be seen."

* * *

Thank you all so much for reviewing! I really enjoy writing this fic. Thanks for all the inspiration, everyone!


	4. What Phoebe Reveals

Emotionless Lighters

Chapter Four: What Phoebe Reveals

* * *

Piper 

I let out a huff of air, relieved at finally uttering the spell. When I look up, I see that the boy is shaking, eyes brimming with tears. His eyes…they've changed to a startling hue of green and grow wide with fear and a mixture of emotions I have never seen before.

It takes Leo a moment or two to realize what I've done. "Piper, reverse the spell," he commands shakily after a moment, watching the boy tremble.

"Why?" I snap. "It's only fair that he has his own rights. The elders are all a bunch of sick assholes for doing this—"

"Piper—"

That's when I feel the house shaking from underneath us. The boy has closed his eyes, still rocking in the chair.

"Chris?" I ask hesitantly. He seems to be in his own little world, far beyond our reach.

"Don't leave me," he pleads with a stranger in this world, "please, don't let them take me. Not again. I can't…I won't…stop it…take me back…"

"Piper, reverse the spell!" Leo shouts as the floor shakes harder and pots and pans begin to rattle. "Quickly!"

"Undo the spell of which I think

And restore the trap of secrecy."

I breathe another sigh of relief once the house stills once more. The boy is sitting upright in his chair as if nothing happened—his eyes once again gray and his face lifeless. The only trace of the previous uproar is the slight shake in his breathing.

"What _was _that?" I gasp.

Leo seems to relax a bit at the end of the quaking. "Don't you realize how many feelings they must suppress? To let them all out like that, with that kind of power…of course something like that would happen!" he says. "Even though he obviously doesn't look it, he's probably scared and confused and lost by all this unfamiliarity and maybe even angry or scared about the elders. Keep in mind how you'd feel in his situation." After a pause he adds, "And please don't do that again."

"Excuse me," I say coldly. "I'm just trying to help."

He puts a hand on my shoulder and I intend to shrug away, but linger in the old comfort I used to find in the gesture. "I know, Piper. I know."

"I am sorry," the boy says, cutting in the silence. "I do not mean to act so rashly again."

My anger flares at the injustice of it all. "Don't blame yourself, it wasn't your fault," I assure him, leaning down to his level in the chair. "Nothing in this situation is your fault. It's all a big accident. You know that, right? That you can't take the blame?"

He doesn't nod or shake his head, but I can tell that he does blame himself. Could a child really be taught to believe such nonsense?

"We need Phoebe," Leo asserts for the second time that day. "She can try to look into his past. She may have the answers we need."

"I do not have a past," Chris says, surprising the both of us since he didn't often speak out of turn.

"I'll call her. She doesn't live too far away." I pick up the phone and walk into the next room, explaining all the details to her from her cell phone as she drives over. Phoebe, as I expected, is very passionate with her anger over the situation as well—maybe ever more than me. In record time she speeds up the driveway and opens the door.

Chris is still sitting in the chair, having not been instructed to move yet. I swallow back my guilt at forgetting to allow him to move.

Phoebe gasps when she sees him and the shock on her face is startling.

"What?" I ask, looking around the house. The way she was acting, there could be demons swarming the room or something. But there aren't any demons. It's only me, Phoebe, Leo, and Chris. So what's she all worked up about?

"What's wrong?" I repeat when she doesn't answer.

"You mean you can't see it?" She leans down to Chris. "Oh my god. Are you telling me that you haven't noticed?"

"Noticed what?" asks Leo.

She frowns at him. "You haven't noticed it either?"

* * *

Leo

I stare questioningly at my sister-in-law. What's Phoebe talking about, anyway? What can't we notice, besides the fact that she's freaking out in our kitchen without an explanation?

"I don't know what you're talking about, Phoebe," I say apologetically, glancing at Piper and raising my eyebrows.

"Neither do I," she agrees.

"You mean…" Phoebe's gaze is locked on Chris' small face. "Wow. This is amazing. And for you two not to see it…" She swallows. "_He looks just like you both._"

Piper lets out a strange-sounding laugh at these words. "Like us? You've got to be kidding me, Phoebe. He's been Up There for like, ever. There's no way…"

"No, really. Look at him. Really look at him. He totally looks just like you guys."

My face hardens. "You can't possibly be suggesting that we're related, Phoebe. You know what happened to our second son. He was kidnapped. Killed. We all know that by now. It's been seven years."

"Of course I know that," she says. "You disappeared afterwards, didn't you?" She turns to Piper before I can react to the coldness in her statement. "Don't you think he looks like you both? Seriously."

"Well…" Piper says uneasily. "Sort of. But he couldn't possibly be…you know. Don't lose control of your imagination there, Pheebs."

She rolls her eyes. "I am not," she insists. "Here. Let me take him up to Wyatt's room. Alone," she adds before I can follow her.

"Be careful," I warn. "I'm sure Piper explained—"

"Yes, she did. I can assure you I won't let anything happen to him, got it?" She turns back to Chris. "Come on, little guy, we're going back up to Wyatt's room." She takes his hand and for a moment he looks a bit confused, maybe even taken aback. Hope surges through me. I was right—Phoebe's getting a better reaction out of him than anyone else is, that's for sure.

* * *

Phoebe

It's totally strange, taking the hand of this boy. When I was standing right next to him, it was almost as if there was some unbreakable emotional barrier all around him. No matter how I tried to pry into his mind, I was bounced back out. Now, holding his hands and being a lot closer to him, I can almost feel whispers of fear and apprehension.

Almost. But not quite.

This poor kid really has been brainwashed by the elders, I think to myself. I feel terrible for this child, being forced to live such a miserable life. How could anyone be so cruel to do this to small children? I thought the elders had morals, with all their insisting that everything was done for a greater good.

Laying eyes on this boy, I decide that the greater good is definitely full of crap.

I motion for him to sit on the bed and for a moment he hesitates before giving in and sitting down. He sits up straight, eerily poised. Most kids his age would slouch. In fact, I preferred the slouching. This was creepy.

"Okay," I say cheerfully, "so your name is Chris?"

"Yes."

His voice is even and void of emotion. I shiver despite the summer heat.

"Well, then, my name is Phoebe. I'm Piper's sister." Still holding his hand, I can tell that he's a bit confused by these words. "Piper's the woman downstairs," I clarify, "and the man is Leo." No wonder they haven't had any success so far, I think to myself. Honestly, they haven't even introduced themselves to him yet.

I take my hand away from his and immediately feel taken aback by the barrier that forms between us. Finding out more about this kid is going to be difficult, I can tell.

"Why don't you tell me about yourself?" I ask him.

When he looks at me, it's as if he's seeing through me. His eyes are eerily gray colored, but something's telling me that that's not the way they truly are. It's almost as if he's wearing a mask.

"Exactly," he agrees.

It takes me a moment to realize that he's read my mind, and it obviously takes him a moment to realize that he's spoken out of free will. He flinches as if expecting to be hit at any random moment and returns to his normal stance when he figures out that the hit won't come.

"You're okay here. You don't need to worry," I assure him. "No one's going to hurt you here."

I wait patiently, letting the silence bounce back at us for a few minutes. "You are different," he finally says hesitantly. After another pause he works up the courage to speak again. "You are not like them."

I smile at the progress I'm making. "That's right. I'm a witch, too, but I'm an empath. That means I can feel emotions—and sometimes I have premonitions of the past and future."

He stares down at the carpet. "I have no past. There are only elders."

I give him a little hug, but he's stiff in my arms, considering the gesture foreign. "You do have a past," I insist. "That's what I'm here for. We're going to find out where you really belong."

Staring at this little boy, his resemblance to Piper and Leo so prominent in my mind, it's a great mystery I can't wait to solve—finding where he belongs, that is. My heart is telling me that he belongs here, or maybe with me. I feel a strange attachment to him, as if there's some burden of knowledge we're both forced to bear together.

"You—you're a witch," I finally manage to conclude.

This gets his attention. "I am a lighter. I am trained to protect witches."

"But—you know what I was thinking. You're a telepath. That means you have a Wicca power, Chris. That makes you a witch." I pause to think, wondering where the proof is. "You were taken Up There because of the enormous power the elders felt in you. You're a witch. That's why…that's why I can't read you as well. You're an empath, too."

"I could not be. I am only a lighter."

"That means you might have other powers, too," I ramble on. "The elders just probably never trained you in them. Do you know what this means?" I stop myself. Of course he doesn't know what it means. He doesn't know anything about the baby that Piper and Leo lost all those years ago.

"No. I do not," he admits. I smile. As monotone like and mechanical his voice is, it's still childish and small, like a seven-year-old's would be. But maybe I'm the only one that can tell.

"It means…" I try to explain, but shake my head. "Open your mind to me," I instruct.

For a moment it looks as if he's concentrating to follow the command, then stops. "I cannot. It is forbidden."

"Not on earth, it isn't. I want you to open your mind to me. It may be the only way we can find your past."

"I will try," he promised me. His eyes closed in masked determination. Carefully, I take my hand and place it on his forehead, waiting for several moments before my intrusion on his thoughts.

However, I don't find myself reading his mind. I'm swirling into a premonition of the past. In the picture forming in my mind, I'm in the nursery. It's the same nursery that Wyatt grew up in, only here there's a crib and a cradle.

Wyatt, about two years old, is standing in the crib, peeking into the cradle from the railings. In the cradle is the baby that never had the chance to grow up in the manor. I'm so close to the infant in the premonition I can reach out and touch him, but something holds me back. There's an awareness somewhere within me that something important is about to happen. I need to watch carefully.

A flurry of blue orbs appears beside the cradle. I step out of the way, finding myself face-to-face with Gideon.

Wyatt opens his mouth to howl, but Gideon flashes him a glare so harsh that the toddler is immediately silenced. "You are not the one I want," he hisses, gathering the baby up in his arms. "Say good-bye to your little brother, Wyatt." Then he lets out a sinister cackle, orbing away with the sleeping baby in his arms.

As soon as the orbs dissipate, Wyatt releases an ear-shattering shriek, alarming the entire family. I don't need to stay any longer—I know what happens next. I was there. We were all too late.

I feel myself slowly being released from the nursery and brought back into the real world. Chris is still sitting on the bed, though for a change his eyes are wide and green as if he may cry.

"You could not save me, either," he says quietly. "They always take me."

* * *

The plot thickens...lol. I'll update as soon as I can! Thank you all again!! You all ROCK! lol


	5. Lost Loyalties

Emotionless Lighters

Chapter Five: Lost Loyalties

* * *

Phoebe 

My hands are shaking uncontrollably, but there's nothing I can do to stop them. I anticipated this, but at the same time it's too hard to believe. I am staring into the hard, cold eyes of my dead nephew. But he isn't dead. He's very much alive.

"Chris?" I ask him, voice shaking as well. I feel a tear run down my cheek, but don't bother to brush it away. "Our Chris?"

His expression seems far away, as if he can't hear a word I'm saying to him. Finally he says, "I forget the dreams when I wake. But this time I have not forgotten."

"Forgotten?" His words hover in my mind. He's dreamed of this moment before but never been able to put the pieces together, assumedly. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

The water in his eyes has disappeared and once again he is distant and unfeeling. "I am fine."

"It's okay to cry," I tell him. "It's a good thing."

He looks down at his feet and for a hopeful moment I think he may give in to instinct and cry, as a normal child would. Instead he continues to stare, unresponsive. I decide that he should have a moment or so alone to let this all sink in.

"It'll be fine," I assure him. "You stay here, okay? I'm going to go tell Piper and Leo what we saw."

"No," he pleads suddenly.

I turn to him, startled, and wait for an explanation.

"The elders will take me again. It is useless," he reasons. "It is stupid."

"We won't let the elders take you," I say firmly. "You're staying right here with us, where you belong. No one's ever going to take you from us again. Do you understand that?"

He nods, though I can tell he's uncertain and doubtful, watching my back as I walk out the door and rush down the stairs to Piper and Leo.

"Where's Chris?" asks Piper, alarmed to see me without him.

"In Wyatt's room," I explain. "Listen, you guys, there's something I need to tell you both—whoa. Why do you both look like you're ready to kill each other?"

"Nothing," Leo says submissively. "Did you make any progress?"

"I'll tell you if you tell me first," I bargained, flashing them an innocent little smile. Piper glares. "What? I'm curious. I have a right to know."

"Phoebe," Leo says sternly, "this is serious. You can't possibly be blackmailing us with something as important as…" He sighs. "I give up."

"Well, if you must know," Piper begins, "we were discussing Leo's secret little excursions with my son in the late midnight hours."

I swallow nervously and hope they don't notice. In a moment she's going to have more than one son to talk about, and by the looks of things, she's not ready for another little surprise.

"Oh, really?" I say lightly. "What do you mean?"

"Sometimes Wyatt and I go Up There to train," Leo admits sheepishly. He frowns under Piper's angry expression. "Can you blame me? He's my son too, Piper."

"You abandoned us!" Piper cries. "I'm the one that's always taken care of him! I deserve to know if my son isn't safe in his bed at night as I presume him to be!"

"Well then I'm sorry that I wanted a little time with my own son," Leo rages.

"You should be," Piper snaps. "You—you have no right! You ran away like a damn coward when things started to go wrong, after the baby was kidnapped! You don't deserve any time with him! You certainly didn't want to be around to help me when he was a baby, did you? Where were you then, Leo? Hm? Can you answer me that?"

"Piper, I was hurt! I'd lost one of my sons! I thought I was invincible, that nothing could happen to our children, and one was stolen right out from under my nose!"

"I was hurt, too!" she argues. "But did you ever think of us? No! You ran!"

I can tell as they battle this out, eyes both leaking tears gone unshed over these years, that they're completely unaware of my presence. "You guys," I finally cut in, "that's enough. Seriously, you're gonna scare Chris. He can probably hear this all from upstairs."

"Well, it's not my fault Leo's a scary man," Piper spat.

That's when we heard the deafening crash from upstairs.

Leo's face pales. "Not again," he mutters, racing up the stairs.

* * *

Chris

My entire mind feels numb to all thought. The faces are reeling inside my head—Piper and Leo and Phoebe. These people aren't just foreign witches of earth. These people are connected to me.

I am a witch. Could that possibly be true? All my life I have been told we are training to protect witches. No, I couldn't be a witch. Witches were the reason all fifteen of us had been imprisoned for so long. Witches were the reason for all of our punishments, all of our pains—I couldn't possibly be a witch, never in my wildest nightmares had such a thought occurred to me.

Yesterday I didn't know who I was. Now, I'm a lighter, a witch, and a part of a family I've only just remembered for the first time in seven years.

The people downstairs are my family, or so the vision shows. _They left me with the elders, _I think to myself. All these years, I've been a real person on earth, assumed to be dead. Why didn't anyone try to find me? What will happen when I'm forced to return to the elders?

Out of the corner of my eye—or, rather, from behind me—I see blue lights twinkling. In half a moment, a boy is standing before me with blonde curls and blue eyes as cold as ice. It must be the Wyatt they were speaking of.

At first I am quite intrigued by this boy. It's the first boy I have ever seen near my age that doesn't have the mask of emotions on his face.

I immediately snap out of this interest and turn to defense when I realize that in place of a mask, he is showing a great deal of anger and confusion at my presence.

"Who the hell are you?" he hisses, his voice sinister.

"I am Chris," I answer, feeling a strange intimidation towards this boy and his great angers. "Are you Wyatt?"

"You bet I'm Wyatt. What are you doing in my room? What do you want? Get out!" he screams.

I hesitate. "Phoebe instructed me to stay in this room," I try to explain, but he interrupts me.

"I said, get out," he booms.

"I do not wish you harm—" I say desperately, though my voice is as even as it usually is. He cannot sense my fear, and I'm suddenly greatly proud of this knowledge. The mask isn't always bad. Sometimes it's a safe haven, a hiding place.

"GET OUT!" he screams, sending a burst of power at me. It's is blue and looks electric, coming right towards where I stand. I see in an instant it will be quite painful if it makes contact and a strange instinct overcomes me. I throw my arms up as if to shield myself and a great light floods the room, surrounding at least a five-foot radius and hurtling the blue energy towards the wall.

A great boom erupts and a hole ends up in the ceiling directly above our heads.

* * *

Leo

"What's going on?" I demand, bursting into the room and half-expecting to see a demon with his hands wrapped around the lighter's neck. But no—instead, I stumble upon my own son and Chris, face to face with each other, both staring up at a great, smoking hole in the ceiling.

There's a significant pause as the two boys stare each other down. Then Wyatt's eyebrows raise, crying shrilly, "Dad, he attacked me first. I had no idea who he was or why he was in my room, and he attacked when I orbed in here! It wasn't my fault!" He ran into my arms, turning his back on Chris in fear.

"That is a lie," Chris denies.

"Wyatt, you have to understand that Chris isn't used to earth and probably mistook you as a threat. It's a long story. Here, why don't you go over to your mother. She'll explain it all. After all, I'm not worthy," I say indignantly, staring at her.

"Don't try to embarrass me in front of my own child," she snaps.

Phoebe gives out a nervous little laugh. "Enough," she warns. "I have something to tell you guys—"

"What is the meaning of this?" I question Chris. "Why would you attack my son when he did nothing to you?"

Fury flares through the small boy's eyes, and they flash green. "I did nothing. The boy attacked me," he insists. "He lies."

"My son would never lie to me," I say to him. "I know that for a fact."

"How much do you truly know?" he asks me. His voice isn't angry or accusatory, merely inquisitive, as if asking, "Did you watch the football game last night?" or something like that.

I'm at a loss for words.

"Leo, you've got to admit that sometimes Wyatt can be—"

"Phoebe, I know everything there is to know about my son," I interrupt. "Just because you're a parent now doesn't mean that you're suddenly all-knowing."

Her patient face suddenly turns just as hard and angry as Piper's and I immediately regret my statement. "You know what, Leo? In truth, I know more about your son than you ever will. He's a menace at this age, in case you haven't realized it, and I could sense just now that he was lying. And up until just now, I've been the only one in this family that isn't badmouthing you. Now, I just don't know what to believe."

"Phoebe—" I plead.

But she's taken Chris by the hand already and walks out in a huff, dragging him to the attic.

"I'm sorry," I say lamely. But I know they can't hear me; they've already closed the door.

* * *

Phoebe 

I'm not quite sure what to tell Chris now. He just finds out that this man is his father, only to have Leo distrust him and believe a liar instead. That's a pretty big blow, and he just came closer to being angry at someone then I've ever seen him before. He's only seven years old, and yet it seems as though he's seen everything in the world there is to see and then some.

"He didn't mean it," I try to convince him.

He shakes his head. "He did," he says, and I know he's right. He can tell the truth as well as I can.

"What really happened?" I ask.

"The boy orbed into the room with the blue lights and yelled at me, even though I tried to explain the nature of my presence. Then he sent the blue ball of energy at me, and I put up a kind of barrier to protect myself that I have never used before."

"You mean—he tried to kill you?" I gasp, horrified.

"I do not believe he intended to kill me," he says, though I can almost feel a hint of doubt in him. Suddenly he retracts the statement. "I am sorry. I should not be voicing my opinions."

"Don't be sorry, honey. That's a good thing. You're supposed to give me your opinion. That's the way life works." My mind is reeling with the possibility that Wyatt, the nephew I watched grow up since he was a baby, would try to kill something as defenseless and innocent as Chris. Well, maybe not entirely defenseless. Now I know that he has two powers: empathy and force fields.

"Your powers are probably increasing because you're on earth now, instead of Up There where they could monitor your magic," I explain. "Or maybe this is the first time you actually needed it."

"I have needed it before," he says.

With the ability to sense the pain he has endured over his short number of years, I am the only one who can truthfully say that I believe him.

* * *

TBC!


	6. Shattered Mask

Emotionless Lighters

Chapter Six: Shattered Mask

* * *

Wyatt

I don't care what my mom says that boy is. He doesn't have any right to be in my room without my permission and I don't care if he's special in any way. If he let the elders push him around, that's his fault, not ours. He should've run away or something.

Besides, he's creepy. Really creepy.

For one thing, it's like he's a robot. His voice never changes and he never seems to be feeling any emotion. When he and Phoebe passed me in the hall on the way down from the attic, I gave him a little triumphant smirk to see what his reaction would be, but his face remained the same.

For another thing, he has my power. Force fields are supposed to be the special thing that only I can manage. Dad says that it's one of the powers that makes me more powerful than any other witches and that's why we need to train and exercise it Up There. But then that boy all of a sudden is able to manage a force field twice the size of mine and deflect one of my largest energy balls with ease after never practicing it a single day in his life. I find this quite annoying.

Not that I view him as a threat. Nobody's able to threaten me.

Now we're all sitting at the dinner table, but I don't know where my dad is. Phoebe's sitting to my left, spinning spaghetti idly on her fork. My mom's on the right, chewing only to keep herself busy and occasionally stealing doubtful glances in my direction. Chris, the boy, is sitting in front of me, staring at his food but not making any attempt to eat it.

"Where's dad?" I ask.

Mom swallows. "I don't know," she says curtly. "This is just like him, leaving us with all of the dirty work."

Phoebe flinches. "Dirty work? Piper, you can't possibly mean that, can you?" she asks.

"Yes, of course I mean that. I mean, Chris is his responsibility, not ours. Leo's supposed to protect him from demons, not us. But does Leo ever think about us? No. It's just like before, Phoebe—he dumps everything on us and walks away."

I don't say anything because I figure it's better not to argue about something I don't understand. But I can tell that the conversation isn't smoothing over so well with that boy, the lighter or whatever you call it. His head seems to droop a bit further than it was before, and I can barely notice the emotional shift, but it's there. Small, but definitely there.

With my head down over my plate so no one can see me, I smile. Somehow I just love it when other people are suffering and don't have control. It makes me feel powerful. Is that really such a bad thing?

"Piper…" Phoebe trails off, as if she doesn't have anything to say.

Mom looks up from her plate. "What? Do you just expect me to forgive and forget, like nothing ever happened? He's done it before and he's only going to do it again and again and again. You think I want some kid with all this power on my hands? I have my own son to worry about, thank you very much."

Chris' chair slides out from the table and he abruptly leaves the room, headed upstairs. His food sits untouched where he left it and Mom and Phoebe stare after him.

"Where are you going?" Phoebe calls after him.

The boy doesn't answer.

I suddenly feel a bit angry at my mother's words. "My own son to worry about"? I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Does she not realize the power I possess? That's why I like hanging out with Dad. He treats me like the special being I am, not like some normal, defenseless child. And she's talking as if this boy is more powerful than I am. Nobody can be better.

"I hope you're happy," Phoebe snaps, rising to follow him up the stairs.

"What'd I do?" asks Mom. "He doesn't care what I say about him. That kid doesn't feel anything. He's brainwashed."

Phoebe's glare could have penetrated the wall, had it not been stuck to her face. "Everybody feels." She turns her back on us sharply and heads up the stairs.

Mom rolls her eyes. "I just can't do this anymore," she sighs, pulling out her chair. "Help yourself to dessert, Wyatt. I'm going to bed early."

* * *

Chris

I don't know what made me leave the table and come up here. This place makes me feel safe, their attic. Maybe I just needed to leave before that woman said more. Words have never quite affected me that way before.

All my life, every time the elders beat us, or whenever we were alone in the dark, I could never help but feel a little bit of hope. Like I had something special of my own to hold on to, no matter what happened. I held onto the possibility of someone, somewhere, waiting for me.

Now I know that I was foolish. For one thing, if the elders had known of these nonsense thoughts, I would be punished. And now I knew the truth. Nobody's waiting for me. I am merely a burden.

"Chris," Phoebe says quietly, sitting down next to me. I knew she was coming. It's easy to sense her. "She was upset with Leo. You understand that, right? She wasn't trying to hurt you."

"I am not hurt," I say hesitantly. My voice is shaking and I am immediately alarmed by what little control I have over this emotion. I feel abandoned now, even though I have been my entire life. Why now? After all these years of being in control, what makes it any different?

"Yes, you are. We all are. It's a little difficult for Piper and Leo—your parents—right now. They haven't seen much of each other since you disappeared. They're a little angry." She sighs. "Piper had no right to say those things, but she's just trying to heal. If she knew what we found out today, I know she wouldn't say that, Chris."

"She should not know. I should return to where I belong. I will be punished more if I stay here."

"You won't be punished, honey. They're not going to take you away."

But I know in my heart, as comforting as the words may sound to me and herself, that nothing is for sure. They could easily orb down here and take me with them is less than a moment's time. I'm never safe.

I stare at my lap, trying to regain control. A lot of strange emotions are flowing through me now. One especially that I've never felt even a whisper of before: jealousy. These people never had to follow orders. That boy downstairs, my brother—he was allowed a normal life with a normal family. Why did I have to be chosen to go Up There and train? What made me any different? I bite my lip, realizing that she must be able to sense this display of emotion.

"No, you have every right," she tells me. "Whoa. That's the first time I've been able to read you…"

"This earth is breaking the mask."

"Mask? What mask?"

I stifle back a shudder. "The mask. We cannot show emotions. I suppose we were all witches Up There…because sometimes we would inadvertently read one another's minds." It's all making sense to me now. This is how I knew whenever an elder was approaching: someone nearby would silently warn me. And vice-versa; I would warn others. We had our own little language, so to speak, through the hidden color of our eyes. "That is what we called our state. A mask."

"You don't have to wear it," Phoebe reasons with me. "It was never meant to be there in the first place. You're allowed to feel whatever you want to feel down here. It's safe."

I hide my eyes in shadow, knowing that they must be sparking with the life I am not allowed to show. "But it is not safe for them yet. They are still there."

"Who?"

"The other children. The elders still have them." For a moment all of my thoughts cloud over as I try to open my mind to them for the first time. I see it all so clearly: the embassy in ruins, thirteen other children sitting in a circle with their eyes closed in concentration. They are meditating. If they move or make a single sound, they will be whipped.

There's a hole in the circle where I should be—and another hole where the little boy once sat as well. I swallow back my guilt; I should be there, suffering with them. I should never have seen this place. Now I'll always know, even after my return, the pleasures of earth and freedom.

I remember the boy that disappeared after talking of earth. He had known a life down here, how wonderful it could be. Now I know why he opposed them. He wasn't foolish, he was lonesome.

Another emotion that is suddenly new to me.

_You are the one that is missing, _says the voice of a girl. I look around the circle and my eyes fall on one of my fellow lighters, Annabelle, a girl perhaps of twelve years of age with straight, brown hair and eyes as distant and gray as my own. Her eyes are still closed in meditation. She can sense me reaching out to her and is responding to my message.

_The elders are searching for you, _she warns. This is the first time I've heard her true voice: desperate and frightened. There are no masks for our thoughts. _You must find a safe place. Hide. Save us, Chris. I've watched you since the day you arrived here seven years ago. Only you can do it, Chris. Help us return to earth…I know you can find a way. _

* * *

Phoebe

Suddenly Chris falls limp, sagging into the chair. His eyes cloud over and I realize he's in a premonition. No, something different. He's communicating…with the other lighters, I think to myself, shuddering. That's a lot of power to possess, the ability to reach that far in the universe.

"Chris? Chris, can you hear me?" I say quietly. He's not ready to return yet.

"Annabelle…wait," he's pleading, his voice strained and barely a whisper. His eyes are closed now, concentrating. "What has happened? Danny is not with you." He pauses, as if listening to a response. Suddenly he tenses in the chair, frigid with fear. "I will try, Annabelle. Take care of the others."

He blinks, his eyes the bright color of green from before. Only this time they don't change back into his mask—tears spill down freely down his cheeks and he shoots up out of the chair.

"Chris? Chris, what's wrong? What happened?" I demand. "Chris…"

He doesn't face me when he says in a muffled voice, "It killed him. The caved in walls killed Danny." Then he falls to his knees and, for probably the first time in his life, he breaks into anguished sobs.

I stare, shocked into silence by his small cries. "He was my responsibility. You do not understand; when a smaller lighter was brought into the group, an older one would warn them, show them how to live without being punished. Annabelle taught me. I taught Danny. It killed him! The crash killed him! It is my fault for not returning," he sobs.

Down on the floor he looks so small and vulnerable, his tiny body wracking with defeat and pain. It's as if somebody took all the protection and reassurance he had left in the world and shattered it at his feet. He lost what little family he'd ever known just now, and it left me utterly speechless.

I reach down to comfort him, placing a hand on his shoulder, but he jerks away. "No," he whispers, "stop. Please. I cannot be here any longer."

To my shock, blue orbs envelope him, carrying him off far beyond my reach. For a moment I remain rooted to the spot, flabbergasted, before finally uttering a small cry. "Piper!" I scream. "Piper, get up here!"

* * *

Piper

"What? What's going on?" I demand, frantically bounding up the stairs. I fling the door open to see Phoebe's expression, pale and shocked. "What's wrong?"

"He's gone!" she cries. "Chris—oh, Piper, it's horrible—he orbed out after communicating with—"

"Communicating? Phoebe, slow down! What are you talking about?" I ask desperately.

There are tears in her eyes, running down her cheeks. "Piper, he has the power of empathy and telepathy. His powers managed to reach out to one of the other lighters Up There—Annabelle, I think her name was," she explains, hiccupping. "He sort of spaced out and started talking to her. He didn't look like he ever remembered I was in the room, and—and he asked where Danny was. He could see them, and one of the lighters was missing—the one he took care of. The crash killed his little friend."

"The crash?"

"The crash! When the lighters' embassy fell, Piper! It killed one of the lighters, the one that Chris looked after. It was awful—the poor little thing just broke down and sobbed, and then…and then…"

Realization dawns on me and I search around the room. "Where's Chris?" I whisper, eyes growing wide.

"That's what I'm trying to tell you! He's gone! _He orbed out, Piper!_"

"That's impossible," I insist. "Chris can't orb. He's not a half-whitelighter, he's a witch."

"My god, Piper. I can't believe you haven't realized it on your own. How can you be so slow? How can you be so ignorant?" she cries out. "How can you look at him and not be able to recognize _your own son_?"

Her question seems to vibrate off the walls. I stare into her eyes incredulously, the past events of the last twelve hours rushing through my head. Chris, falling from the sky like a wounded angel. Staring into the green eyes of my ex-husband in a frightened child for mere moments of pain after the casting the spell. Coaxing him to reveal everything…trying to understand the purpose of the lighters…

I gulp. "That can't be true," I whisper, voice barely audible. "That can't be true. That boy cannot be my son. My son is dead!"

"No, he isn't! And you just made some pretty disgusting remarks downstairs that didn't exactly make matters any better!"

"You're a liar!" I accuse.

"Don't you dare call me a liar," she fumes angrily. "I saw it with my own eyes. I had a premonition. He's your son, Piper. And now he's gone. It's up to you to help find him."

* * *

TBC!


	7. A Final Attack

Emotionless Lighters 

Chapter Seven: A Final Attack

* * *

Annabelle 

Even from earth, I can feel his pain. Chris is mourning the death of his friend below us. We can all feel it. A boy to my left whimpers, recalling the devastation of us all. _Hush, _I warn him gently. _They will see. _

It is my unspoken job to teach the little ones, as the oldest of the lighters. Ever since Frank, a boy older than I, was killed by the elders, I have attempted to keep them out of harm's way, all the while hoping that our absences from earth would be noticed.

There was not any luck. My parents were killed shortly after my capture; this I know from the ability to reach out that far. The other lighters' parents were either powerless or ignorant. The quake that caused the embassy to fall killed our dear friend Sammy, but at last gave us a chance that has never before been offered: freedom. We can only hope that Chris will find a way.

I believe in him. Everyone here does. He is the only one powerful enough to shake off the mask, to oppose the elders and help us to escape. Now we have a chance.

_He is coming! I can sense him, _cries the excited thoughts of a smaller lighter. _We can return to our homes! _

_Do not count your chickens, _I remind him patiently. Yes, Chris is coming. I, too, can feel him orbing through the vast atmosphere. He is coming full of pain and anger beyond what any of us have ever felt in a single being before.

One of the elders cracks a whip threateningly, and I can feel him tense behind me. We are not the only ones that feel his force approaching. I carefully open one of my eyes in a small slit in time to see the blue orbs light up the air surrounding us. He forms in the middle of the circle.

If it was not for his brown hair and small frame, he would not be recognizable. His eyes are a fiery color of green, piercing the elders' stares with a kind of rage I have never thought capable of such a little child. They are streaked heavily with tears of anguish, mourning the loss of our comrade. His tiny fists are balled at his sides, quaking with fury and ready to leap towards any attacker.

The whip comes down on him and we all brace ourselves for his punishment.

His hand is up in half of a second, blocking the blow. He holds end of the whip in his hand, glares menacingly at the elder and in a quick jerk of his arm he steals the whip from the elder's grasp and hits him in return.

The elder cries out and stumbles back, clutching the shoulder that made impact.

"How does it feel?" Chris hisses. "It is not fun, is it, now?"

"Stop this at once!" the elder booms. We wince at his anger towards Chris as he calls upon the other elders. "You will be greatly punished for your rash action!"

"What do you intend to do to me? Kill me?" His eyes narrow in accusation as the elder steps back out of guilt. "I know what you did to the older boy. You killed him! He is dead. And now Sammy is dead. Who is responsible for this?" His voice drops to a dead whisper when he finally bursts, "You. You and the elders are responsible for all of this."

The four other elders that run the embassy begin to arrive. At once, two grab Chris' arms, restraining him. He jerks his arms back once more, sending the two of them hurtling forward.

"Do not touch me," he screams. "You no longer have control over us."

"Restrain him!" the original elder shrieks. "You all," he says, indicating us. "Restrain the boy or you'll all be punished!"

_Stand your ground, _I order. We all sit as we were before in meditation, our eyes closed while we listen to the scene unfolding before us.

"There is nobody left to take your orders," Chris yells, confidence building with our support. "Leave this place. Set us free."

"Never," one of the elders spit out.

"Then pay for what you have done." He rounds on the speaker, whipping her as well. The elder, similar to the previous one, cries out and jumps back from him.

"No longer will you threaten us. We are in control."

"We're giving you one last chance," says one of them shakily. "Return to your place in the circle and resume your activities. Or we just might have to resort to desperate measures," he adds icily.

"I will never give up."

One of the elders from behind Chris protrudes an athame from the depths of his heavy white robes. _Chris, _I cry out. _Behind you! _

He whips around in time for his gaze to penetrate the elder's own. The elders freezes in place, stunned, and the knife falls harmlessly to the ground. Chris leaps up away from the blade in panic, his eyes still watery from his loss. Suddenly he turns quite pale, eyes closed in concentration.

A great blue bubble of electricity begins to form around him. I smile the first smile I have ever had the pleasure of letting free for the first time in nine years, since I arrived at three years old.

It is a smile worth waiting for.

* * *

Chris

"What do you think you're doing?" an elder screams at me. "You can't have powers! They're bound!"

I can feel myself shaking—no, the ground beneath me is shaking. I'm causing a great quake in the earth as the force field builds, pushing the elders back. Slowly, with every moment of agonizing concentration, the bubble grows larger, protecting us and destroying everything else in its path.

This is it. The embassy is falling, once and for all. And I, the silent boy with the intent to keep everything hidden in order to stay out of trouble, am the one causing it. This must be some kind of a dream.

A flash of pain in my head quickly reminds me that I am very much awake and must concentrate further before the bubble grows weak.

_You can do this! Do not give up! _Annabelle cheers. I can feel them all around me, the other lighters, as quiet as stones and yet helping the power to grow.

The elders are using their own force fields to deflect mine. I feel myself being pushed back by its power. No, I will not be pushed around. I refuse to be pushed around any longer! With another angry surge, my bubble creeps forward several feet, knocking them all back after taking them by surprise.

"Evacuate," an elder finally commands to the others. They orb out simultaneously, leaving the bubble to expand to its greatest lengths. A great flash of blue light erupts through out the embassy's gates, obliterating the place forever.

"It's over," I gasp, shaking madly. I stare down at my quaking palms and see their blurry outline as I swagger down. "It's finally over…" I fall to my knees in exhaustion, satisfied with the completion of my task.

* * *

Leo

It seems like this emergency meeting of the elders is lasting practically forever. This is absurd! Okay, we all know the embassy fell. We all saw it. It's obviously not stopping them with continuing the lighters' training, is it? That's why we're hiding Chris, isn't it? So they can't bring him back like they did with the other kids.

"Leo," Ariel whispers out of the corner of her mouth when we finally have a spare moment. "The child. Have you made any progress?"

"Child?" I ask.

"The lighter," she reminds me, eyes growing wide in alarm.

"Oh, right." I guess it's hard to think of him as a child, really. "Phoebe's trying to get through to him. It's a little challenging," I admit. "I feel really bad for him."

She stares heavily into my eyes for a moment, their blue pools searching mine as if looking for a sign. She finally sighs, flickering her eyes to the clouded floor. "You haven't seen it, have you?"

"Seen what?" I ask, frowning.

"You haven't seen the truth, Leo," she repeats, shaking her head sadly. "Why do you think I chose you to take the boy, Leo? Why?"

I can't quite think of what to say, taken aback by the question. "I—I don't know," I stutter. "Why did you choose me?"

She shakes her head again. "I thought you might see. The lighter down there isn't just a boy from earth. His name isn't a coincidence, Leo." Her eyes cloud over in remorse. "When the boy was kidnapped as a baby, I tried everything I could to allow him to return, Leo. _Everything I could. _But it wasn't enough; they kept him. I named him, Leo, hoping that someday, when the wrongs were righted, he would be able to return to his home. I named him Chris. I named him for you."

"I don't understand," I say shakily. "Are you saying that…?"

"The boy is your son, Leo."

I open my mouth to argue but find that there's nothing to say. Slowly, the images build up in my mind. It's like finding the missing piece to a puzzle: suddenly everything fit. Everything made sense.

A great lump of guilt formed in my throat and instead of waiting for the meeting to recollect, I orb out to the manor.

When I arrive in the attic, I realize soon enough that I'm not the only one that this heavy secret has been revealed to.

"Leo, you're here," Phoebe cries. "Where the hell were you? There's something we have to tell you…" There are tears welling up in her eyes, replacing ones that have already leaked.

"Not right now," I plead. "Where's Chris?"

"Gone! He's gone, Leo!" Piper shrieks hysterically, sobbing like a maniac in a chair. "He's ours! He's our baby, Leo! Our poor little boy was kidnapped by elders and forced to be a lighter!"

"I know," I say soothingly, sitting beside her. "I know, Piper." That's when I realize that I'm crying as well. I turn to Phoebe. "What do you mean, gone? Where is he?" I demand frantically.

Piper hiccups. "His little friend that he looked after Up There was killed in the fall," she explains between little cries. "They couldn't find his body. He was communicating with the other lighters Up There…"

"He just cracked, Leo, the poor thing was sobbing," Phoebe continues. "And then he just orbed away. We haven't been able to reach Paige up in Magic School, and we think he could hurt himself. We have no idea where he is! You've got to do something!"

"Calm down, it'll be fine," I assure them firmly. I suppose that I'm the one that needs to hear those words the most, though. How can everything be fine? I'm finally given a second chance to fix what's been broken for seven years, and I let it fly out the window. "Does…does Chris know? About being our son?"

Phoebe's eyes turn dark. "He's known. He knew when you accused him of attacking Wyatt and he knew when Piper called him a burden at the dinner table."

Stab, stab. The words are like sharp knives to both of us. I leap to my feet and suddenly Chris' whereabouts are clearer than ever in my mind. I see clouds…children sitting in a circle, surrounded by a great dome of blue energy…elders orbing away…

"The embassy," I whisper. "He's attacking the embassy."

"Orb!" Phoebe commands, taking my hand. Piper grabs the other and we orb Up There.

All around us is destruction and utter silence. Even what remained of the fallen buildings and debris is gone, wiped out clean. In the midst of clouds is a small group of children, huddling around something.

Or someone. My stomach does a back flip as the sickening knowledge enters my veins.

The children tense at our presences.

"It is okay," an older one, a girl, assures them. "They are good." She approaches us, giving us a small smile. "Chris has saved us. We are free."

"Chris," I persist. "Where is Chris?"

"He will be fine, I am sure," she says, indicating the huddle of children. Chris lay in the middle of them, a smile spread on his pale, exhausted face. "We will return to earth. I leave him in your care," she says dutifully, allowing us to pass through the mob of children.

I lift the boy up in my arms and his eyes open at the shift. "They're gone," he tells me. "It's over. It's over, right?" he asks.

"Yes," I say, tears in my eyes. It took seven years, but staring at this boy, I know that nothing will ever tear our family apart. Piper smiles at me a few feet away and I smile back, the happy truth universal. "It's over. You're coming home with us, son."

We didn't know that our journey had only just begun.

* * *

THE END....Thanks for all the wonderful reviews, guys! You're all so awesome! 


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